


The Duty of Passion

by HeartbeatsAreMySymphony



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Age Changes, Alternate Universe - Jane Austen Fusion, Alternate Universe - Regency, Angst, Forbidden Love, M/M, Period Typical Attitudes, Period-Typical Homophobia, References to Jane Austen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-02
Updated: 2016-07-05
Packaged: 2018-07-19 13:19:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7362913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeartbeatsAreMySymphony/pseuds/HeartbeatsAreMySymphony
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles Xavier lived an ordinary life, after the death of his mother. He lived by writing poetry, and spending time with his adopted sister, Raven. All through this, he has long repressed his sinful feeling towards the dominant sex. Then, the arrogant Mr Erik Lehnsherr arrives, and everything Charles thought he knew is put into question. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>(Also known as the Becoming Jane!Au nobody wanted.) [ON HIATUS UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: As I am not an expert on the regency period, nor am I an expert of the language used in that time, this will *not* be 100% historically accurate.  
> -M.L.

* * *

 

**I**

 

The Xaviers were a perfectly respectable and agreeable family, albeit rather poor. After the passing of her Ladyship, Mrs Sharon Xavier,  the estate in which she and her children lived in quite charmingly was taken by the state, as payment for the bills she had long neglected. As a result, her son, Mr Charles Xavier, and her ward, Miss Raven Darkhölme, were sent to the county, to take residence with their distant cousins, the Summers. It was not long after that, that Raven was engaged, and the eldest of the Summers children, Mr Alexander Summers, was off in Oxford, finishing his Masters. But our story does not begin until the eve of Spring, when the sun’s days grow longer, and the country daisies begin to show their first signs of budding.

“Is it not lonely, Charles, dear,” spoke Mrs Summers, as she sipped her steaming tea in her tiny kitchen. “That dear Raven will be starting a family so very soon, while you stay here, unmarried and barren? Do you not desire a family of your own?”

This particular discussion was a favourite of Mrs Summers, as it was by no means the first time she had initiated it. And now, with the return of the esteemed Miss Moira Kinross, whom was back from Scotland, taking place with her great aunt, Lady Kinross, Mrs Summers seemed ever more eager for her nephew to court someone. For you see, her eldest son, Alexander, would do no good away in Oxford, and her youngest, Scott, was simply a boy on the verge of manhood.

“No, Madame.” Charles would reply, time and time again, this one no different. “I am in perfect contentment here, watching over Raven before she is wed. I promise you then, after all is said and done, I shall be on my way and out of your hair.”

Mrs Summers  scoffed. “Out of my hair.” she muttered. Then, she sighed a great and deep sigh. “Always Raven,” she lamented. “I know not why you never proposed. Yes, your marriage would not be ideal, nor would it be of great significance or fruitful in wealth, but then, this endless pining of yours would serve a purpose greater than allowing yourself to wither and rot, alone, the rest of your life, while she lives on with that ghastly Mr McCoy.” With one last deep sigh, and disposing of her contempt, she said: “At least he has money.” And that, was that.

* * *

At this time of year, London was explicabley more agreeable than the country, as its warm nights meant evening parties, and not of the kind of which you would allow your sweet daughters to attend.

With a quick and agile swing of his fist, a blond, toned man swung at the taller, and more muscular, man before him, within the ring of frenzied gatherers. Cheers erupted as the final blow was landed, and a pair of soft lips touched those of the victor, the shouts and screams of those who were considered less than the most respectable escalated.

“Well done!” Alexander Summers, cousin to Charles Xavier, clapped the victor (who would later be known to be Mr Erik Lehnsherr) on the slick shoulder. “Well done, my friend.” He slipped the bloodied man a bundle of half their winnings that evening, then smiled in acknowledgement to the lady on his arm. “Miss Angel,” he mockingly tipped his head forward, for which she laughed a boisterous laugh. She then kissed Lehnsherr very passionately, and took her leave.

“When are you to return to the country?” inquired Lehnsherr, still high on adrenaline.

Alex shrugged. “Tomorrow.” Lehnsherr visibly paled, to witch Alex added: “What can one do? When a mother writes eagerly for a visit?” Then, the two young men laughed once again.

* * *

It should not come as much of a surprise to you that the following afternoon, Mr Erik Lehnsherr was extraordinarily late. He arrived to the London Courthouse a frazzled, grinning mess, half way through the third procedure. Later, in the office of his uncle, he was reprimanded for his actions, though this was not the first time.

“Why are you here?” Sebastian Shaw, brother of Mrs Lehnsherr, once Miss Shaw, tightened his fists as he paced his office.

“To learn the law.” spoke Lehnsherr, his tone dry and humorless, the irony not lost within it.

Mr Shaw nodded his head. “And what is it that you have done?”

Lehnsherr began to speak, though he was cut off by the swift hand of Mr Shaw. “I do not want to hear it.” He sighed, and sat back down at his desk. “I have decided you are to be sent to your distant relatives, the Lehnsherrs.”

Struck by his uncle’s judgement, Lehnsherr found himself eager to protest such a cumbersome idea. “But, Uncle… they live in the _country_.”

Mr Shaw nodded. “Indeed they do.” 

* * *

By late afternoon, Raven arrived back from town. Mrs Summers had taken her to look at bridal gowns, while Charles and Scott awaited the arrival of Alex. He was due no later than sundown, which is why he did not arrive until supper.

“Mama!” called Alex, as he barged in through the door. “Papa, Scott, Charles, Raven!”

Quickly, Mrs Summers rushed out of the kitchen to greet her eldest child, bringing him into a fierce embrace. Raven flung herself next, her strong, worker arms gripping tightly her dear cousin, who had been gone a day too long.

“My dearest cousin,” she spoke once all the embraces had disbanded.

Alex cupped her femininely round face. “My dearest Raven.”

“You will not believe the news I am so eager to tell you.”

“Then please, fair lady, do tell.” Alex was always like this. Flattering Raven as a suitor would, though all in good jest.

“I am engaged!”

As though given a burst of energy from the news, Alex held her close to him once more. Then, he turned to Charles, and spoke: “You take good care of her.”

The silence which followed the implication of Alexander Summers’ words was like a thick, heavy fog. It lingered and concealed the truth, all whilst causing the deaths of many a man.

“His name is Hank,” Raven finally said. And all was quiet, as the Summers and Xaviers returned to their food and drink.          

* * *

The next day, a gathering in celebration was held. Mr Henry McCoy arrived with his cousins, the Rogues. Along came Miss Jean Grey, family friend of the Summers. The festivities had begun, and Charles found himself up front, a piece of parchment marked with the elegant strokes of quill in his hand, as he read aloud a set of poems he had written, in congratulations of his sister’s engagement. He spoke his words with ease and clarity, when the heavy sound of a door opening interrupted him mid-sentence.

At this, Mr Lehnsherr swiftly stood. He said: “May I introduce my nephew, Mr Erik Lehnsherr.”  

A disheveled, handsome young man made his way into the room, muttering a quick apology, before taking his place next to Alex. A moment of silence as the guests inspected the newest arrival, then Charles continued his reading, noticing as the new man’s head bowed in boredom and weariness by the end of his set. 

* * *

The Summers home was not as dreary as Erik expected, save, the set of poems he had been forced to listen to just now.

“It was rather charming, don’t you think, Mr Lehnsherr?”

He turned to see a tall, pretty-faced girl, with hair the color of copper. Erik nodded in agreement, though added that it was rather dull, and had a lack of mature coloring. Miss Grey looked abashed, then left to seek the company of another. Unsure of who to speak to, Erik sat himself next to a small harpsichord, hoping for some peace, but alas, that was not in his fate, as one Miss Anna Marie Rogue, sat herself next to him and begun to play in a clumsy manner, not pleasing to the ears in the slightest. Frustrated, he stood back up, and clapped politely as he made his exit.  

Meanwhile, Charles ripped apart his parchment, the words of that inconceivable Mr Lehnsherr echoing endlessly in his mind. “Immature!” he gasped, tears of anger threatening to fall as the loud clang of Anna Marie’s playing resonated throughout the small house. “Immature.” 

* * *

Afternoon had come, and now Erik, along with his uncle, stood in the tiny armory of the Summers’. He held a fine musket, carefully taking in its girth. A truly fine instrument. Then, he was on the floor, as a high pitched ringing fell in his ears, following the higher pitched screaming of his name.

“Maybe,” suggested Mr Lehnsherr, “you should go for a walk, instead.” 

* * *

When Charles decided to go out for a walk, he had expected the result to be far different than the one at hand. He had expected a calming walk through the familiar countryside, and to be at peace with the gentle gust of the wind. He had _not_ expected Mr Lehnsherr’s presence, nor was it welcomed.

“Sir!” Charles paid him no heed. “Sir!” He continued his walk, determined to be left alone. “Sir!”

“Mr Lehnsherr,” greeted Charles exasperated.

Erik tipped his hat to him. “Mr…”

Charles almost shook his head in disbelief. What arrogance! “Xavier.” he bowed accordingly.

“Mr Xavier.”

Charles began back on his way, only Mr Lehnsherr’s voice carried through, as he demanded to know what more there was to this idle place than green, and brown.

Charles held back a scoff. “Others before you have found it, even written about it.” He bowed, then continued on his way.

“Poetry, perhaps?”

Charles stopped once more. “Poetry? You mean, those unimportant things read by women, of which no man should have a place, and yet, no woman may write?”

Mr Lehnsherr glanced above, then back at Charles. “Your reading.”

“As if you would remember, after such a wholesome rest.”

“It was,” Mr Lehnsherr stepped forward, the distance between the two men rapidly closing, to a point Charles began to feel the rise of fear. “Accomplished.”

Stunned, Charles stood for a fraction of a second, eyes locked with those of Erik Lehnsherr.

“It was ironic.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I watched the movie 'Becoming Jane' last night, and really wanted to read a Cherik fic based on it. When I couldn't found one, I decided to write one of my own. For the purpose of this story, Jean is much closer in age to Charles, while Scott is much younger than her. I've altered the age of other characters to fit the roles of put them in. I would really appreciate if you would live constructive criticism and feedback, and well as kudos!  
> -M.L.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick Disclaimer: I do not have a Beta at the moment, so I apologise in advance for any mistakes. I tried really hard to make sure this work is perfect, but, everyone makes mistakes. Thanks for reading, and, enjoy!  
> -M.L.

* * *

 

**II**

 

The ball was crowded and lively; laughter and conversation filled the rooms in its entirety. Alex had briefly come by to bid his cousin a gentle hello, before whisking off Miss Lorna Dane for a dance. By that point, Miss Kinross had already arrived to the ball, and Mrs Summers eagerly pushed her nephew in her general vicinity, her face pulled into a sharp line, which read: _dance with her, or so God save you!_ Begrudgingly, Charles did as he was instructed, and willed himself to near the lovely Miss Moira Kinross.

“Miss Kinross,” he spoke with such a slight and delicate tone.

The Lady turned her full attention to him, and graced him with a smile. “Mr Xavier,” she gave a light curtsy, to which Charles bowed in return, as was custom.

“Would you honor me,” he extended a pale hand, “with this next dance?”

Miss Kinross smiled a radiant smile, her brown eyes lighting up. And Charles found himself desiring a pair the color of the sea in the eye of a brilliant storm, instead.

The dance was not all bad, at least, while Charles was still in control of his senses. Miss Kinross was not the worst partner, but then again, she was not the best, either. It was not until the familiar stride of a man who was all arrogance and pride, that Charles lost himself. He lost himself in the sharp angles of his handsome face; the way his mouth, even when he had no expression, twisted ever so slightly up, as though forming the beginning of a smile; in the way his eyes locked with Charles’, playful and haunting; in the way—

“Oh!” Miss Kinross flinched back away from him, and it was only after the damage had been done, that Charles realised the severity of his actions. His foot had slipped, and in his romantic trance, had fallen upon Miss Kinross’ foot, rather than its rightful place of the floor.

“I am mortified,” Charles confessed, his high cheeks flushing in embarrassment as she grimaced, very clearly turned off. He offered her his hand, which she politely took, and they continued their dance. In the distance, Charles thought he heard the sickening sound of muffled snickering.

* * *

Erik could not say he was all too _pleased_ to be dragged along by his cousins, along with their friends, the Rogues, to a lousy ball, for that would be a blatant lie, and honorable men did not lie.

“Yes, Miss Rogue, this ball is simply lovely.” spoke Erik, relieved to have appeased the persistent child. Her wide grin softened his heart, but not so much so that he would get down on one knee before her.

Following her and her mother, Erik was gifted with the sight of a Mr Charles Xavier charming a pretty, young woman. Erik scowled slightly, then smirked in amusement as Xavier clumsily stumbled on his dance partner’s dainty foot, all the while their eyes locked intimately.

Though, something about the eldest Xavier irked him. Perhaps it was his quiet demeanour, which clearly was a mere facade. Or, perhaps it was the way he would smile so brilliantly at his adoptive sister, and only glance indifferently at him. Or, perhaps it was just Charles Xavier himself, that irked him.

Deciding he might join Alex up on the balcony, where he saw Xavier had seamlessly migrated to, Erik carefully made his way through the crowded Main Room, and up the winding stairs to the second level.

“And,” he heard Xavier’s crisp voice as he steadily approached. “He is just so rude, Mr Lehnsherr is! Refusing to dance when we are so short of gentlemen.” Xavier shook his head. “Who does he think he is? And, where even in Germany is he from?”

“Leipzig,” spoke Erik, steadily approaching the group. “I’m from Leipzig, Mr Xavier.”

Xavier's cheeks visibly pinked, very clearly flustered at having been caught running his mouth off in such an unpleasant manner, and to a guest, no less.

Erik came closer, then offered his hand to Miss Raven Darkhölme, as her finaceé was currently humouring his own sister to a dance. As he did so, he noticed Miss Rogue purse her lips peevishly at being ignored. Inwardly smirking, Erik took the opportunity to nudge Xavier, and nod his head to the girl’s direction. Taking the bait, Xavier’s face hardened. He stepped forward, and said:

“Miss Rogue, would you like to dance?”

Miss Rogue looked dubious for a moment, before accepting his offer. Merely dancing alongside Mr Lehnsherr would just have to do.

Following Xavier’s lead, Erik led Miss Darkhölme by the arm, smiling gently at her, as she engaged him in polite small talk.

They lined up, row facing row; Miss Darkhölme and Miss Rogue to one side, Xavier and himself on the other. As the music began, he leaned to his left, and spoke, quietly.

“Seeing as this is my first dance, it will be what settles my opinion on Hampshire hospitality.”

Xavier almost sneered, if the way his lips began to curl was any indication. The music began, as did the dance, throughout which Erik caught himself in a broken conversation with Xavier.

“Would you give so much to a woman?”

Erik teasingly grinned. “That would depend on her opinion of me.” He spun to meet Miss Darkhölme, and took her hand as she took Xavier’s. Together, they slowly turned their little circle, Miss Rogue all but forgotten.

“But you are not easily pleased,” observed Xavier.

They continued to hop about, before Erik replied. “And you are, Mr…?”

“Xavier. Mr…?”

“Lehnsherr.” The music finally came to a decrescendo as the dance came to its death. He then said: “I think, that you and I are very much alike.” To which Xavier openly gaped at him. Erik then took his leave, after bowing politely to Miss Darkhölme.

* * *

Raven Xavier, as was her name, regardless of blood, knew not what to think of the affairs at hand. Only a month ago did Mr Lehnsherr arrive, and never before had she seen her brother simultaneously so joyous, and so… frustrated. Now, Mr Lehnsherr had been with them almost a month and half, and could almost be considered one of their own.

“Who’s next?”

Raven was drawn out of her thoughts at Mr Lehnsherr’s calling for another player. Hank had just gone, though he was no good at Cricket. He smiled kindly at her as he took his place, standing next to her, and she returned it. _Her Hank._ Sometimes, it still amazed her that he was all hers.

“Who’s next?” Lehnsherr repeated, while Hank offered the bat to Scott, who was still young and insecure. Feeling rather bold (a feeling not unusual to Raven), she grasped the bat from Hank, ignoring the laughs of the other women, and Jean’s calls for her to stop this ‘nonsense’.

She smiled very brightly, then smirked to Lehnsherr, whom was very clearly apprehensive about the whole ordeal. Taking her place, she gripped the bat tighter in her hands, waiting patiently.

Lehnsherr ran a few paces away, then sprinted in her direction, coming to a graceful stop before launching the ball at her, clearly expecting her to fail. Raven swung the bat, all her strength and might put into that one swing, and she hit the ball straight out of their general vicinity.

For a moment, she merely stood there, admiring her own accomplishment, when she suddenly heard Charles screaming for her to run. Realising this wasn’t the end of the game, Raven dashed to the post, her grin never fading as she swiftly ran from post to post. By now, the whole crowd was cheering her on, even Mrs Summers and Miss Jean Grey, both of which who were always quite the traditionalists. ‘Run, Raven, run!’ they cheered, and Raven had not felt so alive as she did at that very moment, even when in the presence of Hank when in private. The clapping intensified as she won the game, Lehnsherr not having run swift enough to catch her. It was so thrilling. Raven never wanted it to end. And, it seemed it needn’t end after all, after Lehnsherr declared it would be a good time for a swim, to which Charles replied to supply the knowledge of a small river down-hill and through the thin thicket of trees.

Quickly, the men made a dash, and were off down the hill, laughing and hollering as they went. Not one to be left behind, Raven impulsively grabbed Jean’s hand in her own, and made fast to be second, eagerly wishing to catch up to them.

As the girls ran down the hill, laughing just as hard as the men, the rest of the group fell behind, and it was almost as though it were just the four of them left in the entirety of the world.

Jean and Raven were very swift, just the two of them, and had easily caught up. They eased their pace, though, when they realised Charles and Lehnsherr were completely stripped of all their garments, and already in the water, clearly not desiring their presence.

“Come on,” urged Jean, as she turned to head back.

But Raven was transfixed at the sight of her brother so happy, and was unable to will herself away: a folly she would later come to regret with all of her being.

She suddenly gasped, and made to leave at once. But the damage had been done. Jean had heard her gasp, and turned back, curious to see what had made the fierce Raven lose her composure.

Before the two young women, stood two young men, completely nude in the middle of a river, in a passionate embrace. Lehnsherr’s hands gripped tightly at Charles’ slim hips, holding him flush to his own body. Their mouths were pressed to one another’s, and their eyes closed, oblivious to the world around them, and the two pairs of eyes watching. They pulled apart, though only at the lips, then pressed their foreheads together, their eyes still closed in twin expressions of bliss.

“Let’s go.” Insisted Raven. She pulled Jean and her prying eyes away, and back up the hill. Once in view of the rest of their party, she pulled Jean close to her, and said: “You must _never_ tell anyone of what we witnessed today.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, friends! I would like to make a quick apology for my rubbish description of the cricket game scene. I know nothing of the sport, but quite honestly didn't feel up to researching it. Very lazy, I know. But, cut me a break! I've been up until 1:00 a.m. trying to get this finished for you, lovely readers. So, hopefully you enjoyed this chapter. And, as always, please leave feedback/criticism/requests in the comment section below, as well as kudos. Thanks again for reading,  
> -M.L.
> 
> P.s. I am in dire need of a beta, so, please, P.M. if interested!


End file.
